Isabella rode off quickly after leaving Jack, urging her horse to its fastest pace. She noted with relief the smithy a little further up the road, and expected Jack to catch her up before very long. She began to feel optimistic they could reach Dover before the morning packet left, and rescue Clare from her folly.
After an hour or so she began to glance back to see whether Jack was in sight, but there was no sign of him. Isabella continued, more slowly now for the sake of her horse, trying to dismiss from her mind the possibility of the dangers she might have to face alone if he did not succeed in catching up with her. But her other thoughts of Frances' betrothal to Jason she found equally gloomy, and she tried to cheer herself up remembering Lord Belvedere's many kindnesses to Clare. Never for a moment did she consider giving up the pursuit, so determined was she to achieve her plans.
At Canterbury she rode to one of the largest inns to change horses. In the yard, lit by flares on the sconces round the walls, she slipped wearily from the saddle. An ostler approached, looking past her, expecting another horse to follow.
'I need another horse,' Isabella said, 'and quickly, if you please.'
He took the reins from her hand, but did not move away.
'One horse, mistress?'
'Yes, naturally,' Isabella replied, repressing the desire to ask how he thought she could ride two.
'You travel alone?' he went on.
'I do, for the moment, but what business is it of yours, pray?'
The man looked her up and down insolently.
'It is unusual for ladies of quality to ride alone,' he sneered. 'Did you not know that?'
'However unusual it may be, that is what I am doing!' Isabella snapped. 'My cousin's horse cast a shoe, owing to the laziness of others like you, and he is delayed. Now, a horse, and quickly!'
'Oh, I don't know about that.'
'What do you mean, fellow?' Isabella, worried, angry, and by now a trifle frightened, allowed her voice to rise. 'It is your business to provide horses for travellers!'
'It may be so,' the man rejoined, 'but we do not have to supply them to every odd character that demands it.'
'Do you fear I cannot pay for it?' she asked in fury and dragged out her purse. 'Here!'
Seeing the coins, the man's demeanour became rather more respectful.
'Why, nought of the kind. But 'tis unsafe for you to ride alone.'
'I know what I am doing, and I am responsible for myself.'
'Will you not take some refreshment, and rest awhile?'
'I have been delayed too long already. I told you I need to hasten. All I require, and speedily, is a fresh horse!'
The ostler shrugged and turned away.
'If you insist, but you are doing a foolish thing.'
Isabella suppressed her anger, realising that now she had gained her point further argument would only delay her, and she stood impatiently tapping her foot on the cobbles while the man led out a fresh horse. Paying him quickly she mounted and, glad to feel the eagerness of the fresh horse beneath her, led him quickly out of the yard and away from the town. She did not notice that two men who had been lingering near the stables while she argued with the ostler had run to their own horses and were following her at a discreet distance.
*
They remained a good way behind, keeping her in view because of the moonlight which was bathing the countryside in its soft glow. They rode silently, using the grass verges whenever possible to muffle the noise of the horses' hooves. When they had ridden about three miles out of Canterbury they quickened their pace and narrowed the gap between themselves and Isabella.
As they drew nearer she heard them and looked round anxiously. For a moment she hoped it might be Jack, but that hope died as soon as she saw two horses. She began to feel afraid and rode on, with a great effort not increasing her pace, and prayed that they were merely late travellers who would pass her by. But as they drew level they dropped their pace to hers, and rode one either side of her.
'Good evening, mistress,' one of them greeted her, and Isabella nodded, not trusting her voice to answer.
The man on her right suddenly leant over and grasped the bridle of her horse, bringing it to a halt.
'We have need of your mount,' he said quietly. 'Do not resist us, for 'twill be the worse for you an you do.'
'Release my horse at once!' Isabella ordered, anger overcoming her fear.
'That purse full of gold, we have great need of that too.'
Isabella looked from one to the other, but they stared back implacably.
'I will not! You are rogues, highwaymen, and will go to the gallows for this!'
The man holding the bridle gave a short bark of laughter.
'Cease bandying words with us, mistress, we are in haste. Where is your purse?'
Isabella looked round frantically. The road was deserted. It was very late, and she had little hope of any other travellers coming to her rescue. She dug her spur viciously into her horse's flank, hoping to startle it into breaking away from the hold on its bridle. At the same time she struck out with her whip, but the man had been ready for her. He caught her wrist as she brought her arm down, and struggle as she would, she was unable to free herself of his grasp. The other man had caught hold of her horse when it plunged and she was helpless.
'We do not relish making attacks on women, but you will force us to treat you roughly unless you obey. All we need is your money and the horse, we mean no harm to you.'
Isabella continued to struggle, and finding it increasingly difficult to hold her and also control the restive horses, he brought the thick end of his whip down on the side of Isabella's head. She sagged limply in his arms, and he glanced ruefully at his companion.
'I had to do it, Ned. Here, I'll hold the horses, you throw her over there in the ditch and she'll be found come morning. Chuck over the saddle bags too.'
'Have you killed her?'
'No, 'twas but a tap I gave her.'
He handed Isabella to his companion who had dismounted, and this one searched quickly through her pockets and baggage, found the purse, then carried her to the side of the road and dropped her down.
'Come on,' his companion urged, as he began to count the coins. 'We can do that later. Let's get away from here. We've got to get rid of the horse before 'tis missed.'
Seeing the force of this argument, the other man thrust the purse into his own pocket and remounted. Wheeling, they set off back towards Canterbury, leading Isabella's horse beside them.
Half a mile along the road they passed two men riding in the opposite direction.
'It was well we set off when we did.'
'Aye, but methinks they were suspicious. Did you see they almost stopped as though to speak?'
'We could not be recognised, the moon was behind a cloud.'
*
Comforted with this thought they rode on, but they had been correct in supposing that the other travellers had been suspicious. They had been surprised to see a led horse with a lady's saddle at that time of night.
'Methinks there is something odd going on,'
'It does seem queer, Mr Marlowe,' the other replied, and Jason nodded thoughtfully.
'Keep your eyes open for aught unusual.'
They both did so, and after a few minutes, Jason halted.
'Do you see that, Dick?' he asked, pointing with his whip.
It was a gleam of white at the side of the road. Quickly Jason dismounted and his groom took the reins while he went over to investigate. Just at that moment the cloud which had partially obscured the moon drifted away, and extra light was thrown on the scene. Jason saw a woman lying supine in the ditch, and it was the edge of a white petticoat he had seen.
He knelt quickly and felt for her heart. It was still beating.
'Tie the horses up and come and help me,' he ordered his servant and turned back to the woman. Quickly, expertly, he examined her and found no bones broken. By this time Dick had approached.
'I will carry her to Marlowe House, 'tis but a short way. Bring those bags, they must belong to her. There are no bones broken, but a great lump on her head. Those villains must have hit her, she is out cold.'
Gently he slipped his arm round her shoulders, supporting her head, and raised her into a sitting position. It was only then that the light of the moon fell on her face, and with a shock he saw he held Isabella Vaughan. Recovering himself he slipped his other arm under her knees and picked her up. The groom took her while he mounted, and then lifted her into Jason's arms where she lay with her head limp against his shoulder.
'Ride on ahead and get a fire started in the bedchamber next to mine. There is no need to rouse Mistress Grendon yet. I will see if there is need of her when I have carried the lady home.'
Nodding, the man spurred his horse and set off as fast as the pale light would allow, and Jason followed at a steady walk. When he arrived at his house Dick was waiting on the front step, and held Isabella while Jason dismounted, then took the horses round to the stables while Jason carried his burden through the wide hall and up the stairs to the bedroom prepared for her. He nodded, satisfied to see a good fire roaring in the fireplace, and briefly praised the efficiency of his servants.
Dick had turned down the bedcovers, and gently Jason laid Isabella on the bed. She was very pale, and the lump on the side of her head was large. However, the skin was not broken, and there was no blood. He smiled a little at the thought of the fury she would feel if she knew what he was doing, as he carefully removed her riding habit and boots, and confirmed there were no bones broken. Then he drew the covers over her and sat on the side of the bed considering what best to do.
She was breathing steadily, though shallowly, and her heartbeat was strong. Jason had seen enough injuries to be certain she was merely unconscious from the blow. He estimated it had been given only a few minutes before he had come across her, and she could not have been unconscious for more than half an hour. He saw no reason yet for calling in medical assistance, especially as the only doctor within reach was, in his opinion, an incapable drunken sot, with only two remedies, bleeding or purging. He was efficient at setting bones, but that was not now required, and Jason felt confident of being able to minister to the patient more effectively than the doctor. He wondered whether he ought to send a message to her parents, puzzling over what had brought her to that area, alone, at night. There was some mystery, and having considered it for a few moments, he decided that until he could send news she was better, it might be wiser not to alarm her parents unduly. Also, and he smiled in amusement, if she were up to some mischief she might be grateful to him if he refrained from sending a message until he ascertained whether that was what she desired.
At that moment Dick tapped gently on the door and came in.
'Is the young lady much hurt, sir?'
'She will do. I do not think there is much amiss. Go and fetch some soup from the kitchen. Bring it in a pan so that I can heat it up on the fire here. Also some brandy, and I could do with a bottle of wine myself. And cloths and cold water.'
The man nodded, looking in concern at the still figure on the bed.
'I know where Mistress Grendon keeps her healing salve. She uses it for bruises. Mayhap that would be useful, sir?'
'Good man. Yes, and aught else you can think on. Then go to bed. I shall sit with her.'
Dick disappeared, but returned speedily with the items Jason had requested. Quietly and efficiently he placed them where Jason directed, and then departed, while Jason, a glass of wine on a table beside him, settled himself in a comfortable chair with a book he had fetched from his own bedchamber, and prepared to wait.
*
Jason had not been reading for long before Isabella stirred on the bed. He immediately laid down his book and went across to her. She was moving restlessly. He held his hand to her brow and found it hot, but at his touch she opened her eyes and stared up at him. There was no hint of recognition in them, but she groaned and raised her hand to her head.
'You were hit,' he explained gently, 'but soon you will feel better.'
'Better?' she whispered weakly. 'They are gone. I must go after them!'
'No, you must stay here,' he replied firmly, but she began to struggle up into a sitting position.
'I cannot get up? Why do I feel like this?' She groaned and sank back onto the pillows.
'Do not attempt to talk,' he ordered, and slipped his arm behind her shoulders, raising her slightly. 'Have some water,' he suggested, holding a glass to her lips. She sipped and then tears of weakness came into her eyes, and she turned away from him. Gently Jason laid her down, and she seemed to drift off into a restless sleep. He stood watching her, and after a few minutes her eyes were open again.
'Henry, you left me!'
Jason narrowed his eyes. Just who, he wondered, was Henry.
'I trusted you, but you left me,' she continued in a faraway voice. 'You were faithless. Clare, you must not go, it will be the same!'
With sudden strength she turned towards Jason as he leant over her and grasped his arm.
'I must stop them! Jack, you must help me, you are the only one!'
Gently Jason took her hands and held them in one of his, while carefully stroking her hair away from her face with the other.
'You are ill, you must sleep. You must not be concerned with Clare, she is safe.'
'No!' She shook her head vehemently, and winced at the pain this caused. 'She thinks he loves her, yet he does not. I could have told her. I loved Henry once, but he was faithless! No man is faithful!'
Her sobs overwhelmed her, and Jason held her close as they racked her body. As the storm of weeping abated, he said to her quietly, 'Will you have some soup? 'Twill take but a few minutes to warm it up for you.'
'No, do not leave me! Oh, Jack, why did you do it? I cannot bear to be alone, Henry. Is that man gone? He tried to take my horse!'
Gradually her ravings grew weaker, and still held in Jason's arms she drifted back to sleep. When he was certain she was fast asleep he lowered her gently to the pillows and covered her up, then stood for some time looking down at her, a curious expression on his face. She was sleeping naturally now. Jason remained with her for another hour or so until dawn, then he rang the bell for a maid, who appeared looking somewhat surprised at this early summons.
'Send for Mistress Grendon. There has been an accident. This lady was attacked and I brought her here. Mistress Grendon or one of the maids must sit with her.'
Soon this was arranged and the homely housekeeper, clucking in concern, took Jason's place to watch over Isabella.
'She was in some delirium during the night,' Jason informed her. 'She sleeps naturally now, and I think she will be lucid when she wakes, but she will not know where she is. Say nought to disturb her, or about me. Give her some food and send immediately for me.'
The woman nodded, and Jason, content to leave Isabella in her sensible care, went off to his own room to snatch a few hours of sleep.
*
It was late afternoon before Isabella awoke, with her head aching abominably. She opened her eyes to find herself in a completely strange room. The curtains of the bed nearest the window were closed, and the last of the daylight was not strong, but still the light hurt her eyes. She turned her head on the pillow, and a soft voice came to her.
'Well, my dear, are you feeling more the thing?'
Slowly she opened her eyes again, and found a kind motherly face bending over her.
'Why, where am I? Who are you?' she asked weakly.
'Do not concern yourself with that now, my dear. You had a nasty accident, and were brought here. Now, would you like some broth, and an egg perhaps, and a drink of hot milk?'
Isabella smiled slightly. Now she was reminded of it she did indeed feel hungry. She was puzzled to know where she was. What she could see of the room did not give the appearance of being an inn. It was far too well furnished, and the hangings on the bed were of an elegant brocade, lavishly embroidered.
The woman had moved away, and Isabella heard her talking softly to someone outside the door. Soon she came back and seated herself beside Isabella.
'The food will be coming,' she said comfortingly. 'I am the housekeeper here, and if you want anything, ask me.'
Isabella thanked her weakly, but before she could ask any questions the tray was brought into the room by a young maid who looked curiously at Isabella as she arranged the dishes on the table beside the bed. Mistress Grendon helped Isabella to sit up, and asked if she felt able to feed herself.
'Yes, indeed I can. I am shaky, but I can do that,' Isabella said, and drank the broth Mistress Grendon handed to her, feeling better immediately, and soon ready for the egg, and slices of chicken as well as the glass of milk.
'You will soon be able to get up,' Mistress Grendon said approvingly as she took the glass from Isabella.
Isabella smiled gratefully. 'I must thank you. I begin to remember. Two men, they wanted my horse and my purse. They must have attacked me.'
'Yes, but do not tease yourself trying to remember details. You must rest again now.' Mistress Grendon drew the curtains round the bed. 'Try to sleep, and you will feel much better.'
Softly she left the room, but Isabella was recalling the events of the previous day, and was desolate at the thought that by now Clare must have left Dover, and she had failed to rescue her. Slowly large tears welled up and spilled over. Clare would be ostracized by society, condemned to a life of near poverty with Edward. How could she be happy?
Unwillingly Isabella pictured Clare's radiant face when she had been looking at Edward, and marvelled that her quiet little sister, who had seemed still a child to her, should feel strongly enough about a man to defy her parents, leave her family and friends, and go away with him to an unknown future. She began to pray Clare would not be disillusioned, that Edward would prove worthy of her devotion, and there would be no regrets.
Gradually Isabella's thoughts grew calmer, and she began to wonder what had happened to Jack. Thinking of him made her recall the news of Frances' betrothal, and she wondered how happy Frances would be so suitably married to Jason. Would she be as happy as Clare? Reluctantly Isabella could not give an honest answer to that question, and weakly, the tears began to flow, leaving stains on her cheeks as she fell asleep again.
*
Jason, after supper, went quietly to Isabella's room and looked down at her, noting the tearstains on her cheeks. The light of his candle fell across her face and she moved, then opened her eyes. This time there was an instant recognition in them, and she stared up at him in amazement.
'You? What in the world? Am I dreaming?'
He set the candle down on a table beside the bed and drew up a chair before speaking.
'How do you feel now?'
'Oh, much better, thank you, though my head aches. But what are you doing here?'
'It is my house.'
'I do not understand,' she said helplessly.
'I was riding home late last night,' he began, and she nodded, remembering why he had left London.
'Yes. I heard you had left town in a hurry.'
'Well, I saw two suspicious looking rascals with a led horse, and a lady's saddle. It seemed odd, and later I found you unconscious in a ditch.'
'I remember struggling. But why had you not reached home? You left London long before we did.'
'I stayed to sup with a friend in Canterbury, and we talked late. You must have overtaken me there. Fortunately, for had I not found you, you might have been in the ditch all night. I brought you here.'
'I must thank you, sir. I have caused much trouble for your servants,' she said rather formally.
He grinned, and refrained from telling her he had himself attended to her injuries, thinking she might not yet be in a strong enough state to hear that, or know he had spent the rest of the night watching over her.
'It is nought. But what were you doing alone, so late at night, on that road, foolish one?'
'I was not alone, at first. Jack was with me.'
'Did you quarrel?'
'No. Well,' she admitted slowly, 'we were quarrelling all the way, but that was not why we parted. His horse cast a shoe. I was so desperate I could not wait, and besides, his horse was faster than mine and he could have caught me up. I wonder what has happened to him? If he simply deserted me and went back to London I shall never forgive him, for 'twas all his fault for helping Clare!' she finished with vigour.
'Why the urgency?' Jason asked calmly.
Isabella looked up at him, and the tears came again. Impatiently she brushed them away, but her voice trembled as she answered.
'Clare. I was following her!'
'Tell me all,' he advised, taking one of her hands in his and holding it comfortingly. Isabella seemed about to refuse, but his steady gaze had a compelling effect on her.
'Jack helped Clare to elope with Edward Willis,' she explained reluctantly. 'The stupid child was besotted with him, and now she is ruined! I tried to stop her, but now 'tis too late. They will have been on this morning's packet.'
'Why should you want to stop her? I think you object to the marriage rather than the elopement?'
'I deplore both! Edward has no prospects. He is poor, and Clare could do so much better!'
'But she loved him, and he her. Even I, a comparative stranger, could see that they were deep in love.'
'Love!' Isabella dismissed it contemptuously. 'I do not believe in confusing love and marriage! Love never lasts, but a sensible marriage will provide more lasting contentment. And Clare could have married well. It was her duty to do so!'
'Apart from that, why was an elopement necessary? I would not have thought your father a harsh man? Surely he would have agreed in the end?'
'Clare was afraid of being forced into a distasteful marriage,' Isabella said slowly. 'It was nonsense, of course, for no one would have dreamed of trying to force Mr Aloysius on her – '
'Aloysius? That repulsive object? I should hope not!' he exclaimed.
'But there were plenty of others,' she protested quickly. 'Well born, even wealthier, and not repulsive!'
'Like my uncle?' he queried softly, and Isabella blushed.
'Why not?' she demanded defiantly. 'He paid her much attention.'
'He was not amorously inclined towards her.' Jason laughed. 'He is the kindest of men, and realised she was unhappy.'
'How can you know his motives?' Isabella asked angrily.
'My uncle is a living proof love can last, despite what you think,' Jason informed her evenly. 'He has loved one woman for fifteen years or more, and will not be turned from that love, no, not even by Clare's beauty!'
'Oh.' Isabella stared at him, nonplussed. 'Then why does he not marry her?' she asked impulsively. 'Oh, dear, I should not have asked that, I beg your pardon!'
Jason smiled. 'It cannot now be long before he does,' he replied. 'It will not hurt you to know, but I beg you will not gossip about it.'
'Of course I would not,' Isabella replied, 'but please, I do not wish to force your confidence.'
'You do not, and it concerns you indirectly. For many years he has loved your aunt, ever since Lord Lyndon died, if not before. I know he asked her to marry him long ago, but she refused, feeling obliged to devote herself to Frances. But I am certain she loves him, and soon she will be free. I have every expectation that then they will marry.'
'Free?' Isabella was puzzled for a moment, then she realised he must be referring to his betrothal, and suddenly aware her hand was still clasped in his, hastily withdrew it and turned her head away. 'I see. Yes, of course,' she said slowly. 'But what am I to do about Clare?'
'There is naught you can do. She and Edward are out of reach, will no doubt be married as soon as possible, and you cannot prevent it. I think you would be wise not to try, even if you could.'
'It is a waste!'
'Not if they love, and I am certain they do. You will do well to persuade your parents to accept it, and as soon as Clare contacts you, write to welcome her home. That will minimise any damage the elopement will have caused them.'
Isabella nodded slowly, and brushed away a tear.
'I must return to London as soon as possible,' she said, 'and tell them. And also discover what has become of Jack.'
'You are not fit to travel for a while. If you are better tomorrow I will escort you, but if not I will send a message.'
'You have much to do!' she protested. 'I can travel with a servant if you can spare me one.'
'There is nought that cannot wait.'
'But you left London so hurriedly. I thought – I supposed – to prepare your house for – for your wedding!'
He looked at her keenly, but she was turned away from him, her cheek pressed into the pillow.
'Yes,' he murmured at last. 'But there is no haste. Now you are tired, and must sleep. I will send Mistress Grendon to you, and after you have eaten again you can sleep.'
Abruptly he left, and Isabella had the greatest difficulty in restraining her tears until the kindly housekeeper had finished. Then, chiding herself for a weak fool she cried herself to sleep.
*